Murder in the First (1995)

January 20, 1995

FILM REVIEW;
When Does Pain Make A Murderer A Victim?

By JANET MASLIN

Published: January 20, 1995

"Murder in the First" is the semi-true story of Henri Young, who in March 1938 was placed in solitary confinement in an underground vault at Alcatraz and remained thus cruelly confined for more than three years. Released into the prison population and suffering the mind-altering effects of his ordeal, he killed a man he thought had wronged him. Was Henri Young responsible for his own actions after suffering such duress? Was he murderer or victim?

The conventions of courtroom drama provide an easy answer to that question, just as they provide James Stamphill (Christian Slater), the idealistic young lawyer who takes the case of Henri Young (Kevin Bacon). Stamphill, a composite of the lawyers who defended Young, is kind, brash and fresh out of Harvard Law School. He's principled. He admires Clarence Darrow. This case means a lot to him. He treats his client with great compassion. It's essential, in this sort of storytelling, that both Stamphill and Young become better individuals because they work together toward a just cause.

"Where the Day Takes You," Marc Rocco's earlier film about homeless teen-agers in Los Angeles, took place on a smaller scale and much less familiar territory than "Murder in the First." This time, while Mr. Rocco again tells a story confidently and elicits sturdy performances from his actors, he falls into a directorial trap or two. Striving for a more grandiose tone, he loads on inspirational music and indulges in enough mobile camerawork to make the head spin. None of this really disguises the fact that this courtroom drama unfolds in expected ways.

"Murder in the First" stakes its claim to toughness with a grueling first half hour, which details Young's suffering in solitary confinement and at the hands of a sadistic warden (Gary Oldman, working menacingly in his American mode). Mr. Bacon tries mightily to capture Young's physical nightmare, and he makes these sequences convincing. But he can't dispel the thought that the film lacks some essential grit.

Later on, his Young emerges from the hole broken in body and spirit: scarred, hobbled, cowering and displaying the kinds of actorish disabilities sure to rivet an audience's attention. Like Jodie Foster in "Nell," Mr. Bacon does these things convincingly in a film that doesn't offer a credible context for its main characters. Too often, with the camera prowling restlessly as Stamphill draws Young out of his catatonia, the actors bring passionate conviction to material that seems pat. Surprise is so lacking that Stamphill's opening remarks about his client in the courtroom correspond with what Young says later, when he finally blurts out an impassioned statement about himself.

In the courtroom, while the Steadicam ricochets around the set as if it were a pinball machine, Mr. Rocco has assembled a solid team of performers. Mr. Slater, with his hair combed like Ronald Reagan's, paces the set energetically; William H. Macy makes a sardonic prosecutor, and R. Lee Ermey a stern judge. Also in the cast are Embeth Davidtz (of "Schindler's List") and Kyra Sedgwick, as women who only bring out Young's pitiable impotence and humiliation, and Brad Dourif as Stamphill's prosperous and cynical older brother. The supporting performers are effective, especially Mr. Dourif and Mr. Oldman. But nothing in the film eclipses Mr. Bacon's intense, tragic performance in the story's pivotal role.

Mr. Rocco lets the film's ending drag on in search of an inspirational note, which proves elusive. A movie marquee glimpsed during the story shows a Frank Capra title, redolent of a crusading clarity that "Murder in the First" never achieves.